The Big Fix
by The Cell
Summary: "It's complicated." Dean interrupted what was quickly devolving into a rant. "Let's just leave it at that."
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I know, you thought I owned all of this, I'm sorry. HP is not mine.

* * *

"Ready for this?" A young woman whispered to a tall, dark man, pushing unruly locks from her face as she set the last stone into position around a dais in a closed room. The air was loaded and beads of sweat had formed across her brow as she worked, thick winter robes lying forgotten on one of the higher rows of benches.

"As I'll ever be." He answered easily, smiling slightly and holding a hand out to her. He noticed the slight shaking as he lead her up the cracked steps.

She turned to look at him seriously; he bit his tongue to keep a joke in. It would have been in poor taste to jest about that man here of all places, and she was clearly distressed already. It wouldn't do to upset her further before what she was about to do. "You realize this could kill us both? You don't have to do this." He regarded her for a minute, deciding how to best tackle her last minute doubts.

"Hermione, if we don't do this they _are_going to kill me. I'm not even fully educated, and defense wasn't exactly my best subject, how long do you think I can stay hidden? This is probably my best chance at survival. If that wasn't the case I would still do it. You said it yourself, if I go with you, you have a much better chance at success. Even if I couldn't help you, you need someone. If you go back alone you'll go mad. Plus, I can be surprisingly useful sometimes. I am a man of many talents." He rested his arm around her shoulders as she twitched nervously.

"I think it might be too late to save my sanity. No one has done this successfully, even if we survive there is no telling what the consequences to us will be. I only have theories and they might not even apply. We don't know where we will end up, and there are no do overs if we get this wrong."

"Generally there are no do overs the first time around, I am well aware how lucky we are to have found this one. We've weighed the options and we both decided that the risk of us making it worse was much smaller than the chance of making it better. We both decided years ago that we'd happily die for this cause. People in this world throw around the phrase a fate worse than death a lot more than they should. Whatever happens to us, it is not a fate worse than the death of all our loved ones. This is going to be worth it, even if we can only save one person, we should to it."

"In the short term yes. But we don't know the long term consequences of Voldemort's rule."

"No, but I'm guessing it's not going to get good any time soon, especially if he's as immortal as  
he thinks he is."

"And we don't know what the consequences to us might be. This kind of time travel is still untested, all we have is hypothetical scenarios based on completely different methods."

"Well then I guess we should document it well. You can be the first to do an in depth study of it. I'll keep a diary and everything." He grinned down at her and kept a hold of her elbow to keep her from turning away again.

"But..." She sputtered.

He almost laughed again. He wondered how it ended up being the two of them. It was almost funny how little they had know about each other before Hermione had turned up, bleeding all over his nice clean cave almost a year before. They had never really gotten along at school, not disliked each other, just never had much reason to speak. "It's all hallows eve, they're already calling out to find the disturbance. It's now or never. Where is that Gryffindor spirit?"

He had had some serious doubts when she explained her plan all those months ago, but she had convinced him of the validity of her theory. Now it was her turn to be nervous. That was the way it worked. She was absolutely certain once she had a plan, all the way up until it was time to put it into action. He knew what was happening behind her big brown eyes. She was going over every detail of the plan to find flaws. This plan had plenty of them, he knew, but it was also the best one they had. "We could come back next year." It was barely a whisper and neither of them believed it.

"If we're both alive then, and if we can get back in, and if far too many things and you know it. You are brilliant. It is going to work. Besides, we both know if I walk out of here you'll come back and go on your own and I can't let that happen. Now let's do this." The way his mind processed things almost completely opposite hers. He had had his doubts, but now, on the day, he was completely at ease with the plan. He was satisfied that they had done everything in their power to ensure their own safety and everyone else's.

"Right." She took both his hands and began a long chant. Had she allowed her eyes to stray from the veil that was moving at a steadily increasing pace she would have seen a bright spectacle of lights gathering around the pair as she took a small golden necklace from her neck without releasing her companion's hands and offered it to the veil. Dean for his part was free to look around. The words he spoke felt foreign in his mouth but he kept repeating them even as the lights rose to a blinding intensity.

The ground around them rumbled and shook and the cracks on the steps grew until they were threatening to dislodge the archway completely, one narrowly missed his foot. Blocks of stone were dislodging from the ceiling and the benches around the room were crumbling.

The veil brushed across the very tips of their fingers and swept the tiny golden hourglass from their hands before becoming completely still. Suddenly as though a great gust of wind had passed through the room the veil sprang to life again, sweeping across both young magic wielders and the steadily disintegrating room was left empty once more.

* * *

I feel like I owe some kind of explanation to my readers regarding the long absence. I won't be providing one, but I am acknowledging that I should, just to be clear. Jaws is pretty much dead.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thomas, are you ok kid?" He was lying face down on some very well kept grass that seemed to smell faintly of paint.  
"Um, yeah. I mean yes coach." He started at the pitch of the voice leaving his mouth and for a few seconds he forgot all about rituals and wars and time travel. The only thought that seemed able to penetrate the fog in his mind as he rolled over onto his back was 'Damn, I'm going to have to go through puberty twice'. He shook his head, ridding himself of the ridiculous thought and turned his mind to his partner in crime, because he was well aware that his appearance in his own ten year old body was the result of several quite major infractions. It would have been plenty enough to land him in Azkaban had it failed. It had succeeded, quite spectacularly, as he had been sure it would. The brown haired witch he had entrusted his life to had never disappointed when it came to impressive magic.  
Suddenly a large shaved head passed into his field of vision. "Then what in the name of all that is holy are you doing lying on my pitch? Waiting for the grass to grow?" He swiftly stood up and brushed himself off.  
"Sorry coach, got a bit distracted." He knew of course what that response would get him, but the truth would get him worse, just for cheek, and faking illness when he didn't have to had never been his style.  
As predicted the large red face in front of him was deeply unhappy. "Well you can get your focus back by giving me four laps. Get to it!"  
"Yes coach." He sighed but very carefully did not roll his eyes as he turned away, his team mates looking at him strangely as he went.  
He heard the loud whistle as he jogged over to the goal. "What are you all looking at? Get back to work or you're all joining him!"

"Thomas." A cheerful voice announced through the earpiece to a nervous young girl.  
"Um hello. My name is Hermione Granger, is there a Dean Thomas there?" She stammered slightly over the words, not entirely sure what she was nervous about but being unable to shake the feeling of unease.  
"Nope, he's at football practice, you want me to take a message?" She could hear the grin in the man's voice, it was reassuring, but did very little to loosen the knot building in her stomach.  
"Um yes." She struggled to think what she could say.  
She could hear him rummaging around for paper and a pen. "You from his school?"  
"Well no, I live in Oxford, there is a pen pal sort of program going on, and we're supposed to go to London in a few days and I wanted to see if we could meet face to face."  
He hummed thoughtfully, still opening and closing drawers. "That's nice, your parents gonna be there?"  
"No, it's a school trip, we're going to the National Portrait Gallery. They've set aside three hours for lunch and shopping and we're allowed to go around mostly on our own as long as we stay close enough for the teachers to keep an eye on us."  
"Aha, shite, no ink." Hermione glanced down to the small table her parents kept the phone on. She had always thought it was rather odd of them to always keep three small notebooks and six biros next to it. "Right. Well I'll talk to him when he gets back, shouldn't be much of a problem. Never told us about this pen pal thing though. Then again never tells us much of anything about school unless it has to do with football." The rolling of his eyes was clear. She knew it was just teasing but found herself defending her friend anyway.  
"He actually makes football interesting though. You can hear how much he cares. Don't tell him I said this, but I hadn't even heard of the Hammers before I started talking to him." The loud laugh that followed that statement was somehow comforting.  
"Not to worry, your secret's safe with me. Ok, Hermione was it, unusual name. Does he have your phone number?" She heard the faint sound of a pen in the background, presumably scratching down her name and a reminder to call her.  
"Yes." They had made sure to memorize each other's old phone numbers in case they ended up in the middle of summer or before Hogwarts. Clearly the latter had happened. It had taken Hermione quite a while to figure out which number to call as Dean's family had changed their number several times while he grew up.  
"Good, good, actually I should probably take your number anyway, he's a smart kid, but that room of his couldn't look worse if a bomb went off in it. That's not to say it hasn't, no idea what that kid gets up to, set off a firework in the backyard last week which I know for a fact he didn't buy. Still, he gets good grades and he's star of his team, can't really complain can I? Oh, wait number it was." She gave her number and they exchanged polite goodbyes.

Dean dragged himself over the doorstep. He had lost focus several times during practice, which was very out of character for him and had served to anger his coach more than he could ever remember doing before. "Dean, your little girlfriend called." His father wandered into the hall holding a note.  
He didn't quite manage to keep the hope out of his voice when he mumbled her name from his position sprawled on the floor. "Hermione?" His father laughed at his pathetic state but stopped short.  
"Wait, she actually is your girlfriend? Way to go kiddo, she said she was a pen pal." There was a hint of pride with a large helping of amusement in his voice.  
Dean rolled his eyes, he'd forgotten he had to be careful about how he worded things to avoid constant ribbing from his father. "She is, my pen pal I mean. What did she say?"  
"Said she was coming to London in a couple days, wanted to meet up." He finally took pity on his son and helped him up, handing him a glass of water before smirking. "So is she cute?"  
"Yes." He replied without thinking, likely not helping his case, but he was a little bit too glad to see him to be very bothered. "When is she coming? Where were we going to meet?"  
"Chill out would you kid. She didn't give me the details. They were going to the National Portrait Gallery you can meet her somewhere around there I guess. She left her phone number, you can call and work out your little date. Just tell me when and I'll give you a ride, I've been meaning to head in to get your mother's present anyway. Don't worry, I'll make myself scarce. Her teachers are gonna be there though so you won't be getting much privacy I'll wager."  
"Dad! She's not my girlfriend, and we're ten." He suddenly got a strange feeling that that wasn't a particularly ten year old thing to say but quickly dismissed the thought.  
"Hey kid, I call 'em like I see 'em. If you're that excited about seeing the girl, she's your girlfriend."  
"Dad."  
"Dean."  
"Come on dad, seriously."  
"You know you turned into a teenager much faster than I thought you would."  
"Dad!"  
"Oh relax, no need to get so defensive, I'm just kidding. Jeez, I thought your brother was bad."  
Dean went into the office and picked up the phone, dialing the familiar number written on the note. There were a few beeps. "Granger residence."  
"Hermione?" She let out a breath, immense relief hitting her at hearing his voice over the slight static of the phone.  
"You made it." He could hear the relief in her voice and chuckled to himself. He realized that his own relief at her voice was very different somehow. He just felt better knowing she was acting like herself and not freaking out, while he knew she was reassuring herself he was alive and well and had in fact come back in the same state she had.  
"Of course I did, I was sent here by the girl genius herself."  
"Well strictly speaking I didn't send us here. I told you I couldn't aim and I never thought it would be possible to go back this far." She still sounded faintly shocked. "Dean we're ten. I hoped against hope that we'd go back to before the battle but..."  
"Well the further the better right? I mean more prep never hurts."  
"Right. Anyhow, I don't know if your father told you, but I'm going to be in London on Saturday with my school and I thought we could meet up. If you're busy we can wait until summer but..."  
"No, of course I'll come in to see you. I know you Hermione, and I'm fine, but I'm also fine with you needing to see that for yourself. Where do you want to meet?"  
"There is a Waterstones just across the street from the gallery, I'll be in the coffee shop at twelve."  
"See you there."

When Saturday finally rolled around Dean's father had driven his second eldest son to near insanity leading to him seeking refuge among the higher branches of the oak tree in the park behind his house. Eventually they made their way into town and managed to find a space near enough the square. "Dean! Over here!" Hermione had been seated at a small glass table outside the coffee shop reading a book, but was currently almost jumping and waving him over.  
"Cute, could do with some conditioner though." Dean wished once again that his father had allowed him to just hop out of the car when they had been stuck at a zebra crossing instead of coming with him to meet Hermione.  
"Dad!" He hissed, praying that he didn't say anything to Hermione.  
"Ok ok, I'll bugger off shall I?"  
The answer was an emphatic "Yes."  
"Hello, you must be Mr Thomas, it's a pleasure to meet you." Hermione stuck out her hand, Dean's father made a show of leaning over and kissing her knuckles exaggeratedly.  
"Pleasure is all mine I assure you little miss." Hermione giggled and Dean looked mortified.  
"Dad!"  
"Sorry son, it's my job. Now, I think you have been sufficiently embarrassed, I will get going. Pick you up in a couple of hours then?" Dean nodded, glaring at him as he strode off.  
"Well I can see where you got your sense of humour, but not your height, you're almost taller than him already."  
"He's strictly speaking my step dad. He's been around since before I can remember though."  
"He seems nice."  
"I love him, I'd just forgotten how annoying he used to be."  
"You should have seen my parents. My mother was so ecstatic I was going to meet someone and I quote 'not from la la land', she insisted on buying a new dress for the occasion." She motioned to the mass of pink Dean had somehow not noticed while walking up to her.  
He grinned and gave a low whistle. "Wow. It's a pretty sweet dress though."  
"It's horrifying. It has bows Dean. Plural." Her voice was pained and she picked despondently at one of said bows.  
"We could go get you a better one, or a pair of jeans even, I'm pretty sure there's a second hand store a few streets down from here. Think we can get away from your teachers?"  
"Of course we can. I'm the good girl remember, they trust me."  
"If only they knew how many laws you've broken."  
"As of right now, none, I'm ten. Let's go. We have a lot of planning to do." The store as it turned out had very little in the way of clothes for children, ones as slight as Hermione especially, but they settled on a pair of black leggings and an overlarge tunic with a belt that they decided could pass for a dress.  
"Thank god for that. That pink monstrosity chafed."  
"Ok, so back to planning." They managed to find a small patch of grass and sat down.  
"Right, well obviously the first thing is to not get caught. We broke so many laws coming here it's not even funny. Then again very few people are going to believe we did it even if someone does find out so we do have that on our side…there is a very real possibility that we'll be locked up in St Mungo's if we're questioned however. Avoiding a bad situation is always preferable to getting out of it."  
"What's our first move?"  
"We need to store our memories somewhere. There is no guarantee this will hold and even if it does the human mind is far from perfect. Crystal vials will work for storage, but obviously the sooner we get a pensieve the better. Problem is they're not exactly easy to get a hold of and quite expensive, not to mention we're pretty much cut off from the magical world until we get our letters. I think that's about two months from now. After that it's about another month and a half until the year will start."  
"I can probably get into Diagon Alley, mum and dad pretty much let me go off when I want as long as I'm not gone too long and I tell them where I'm going. I'll try to figure out who sells pensieves."  
"Great. I can probably get the money from mum, I'll just say I want to buy a few dresses, she'll be overjoyed." He raised an eyebrow. "I was very spoiled as a child."

"Right. So what's next, we should be making a list or something shouldn't we?" Hermione pulled a pad and pencil from her backpack and scribbled down '_To do: Get pensieve_'  
"We need to establish a cover. The order went down far too quickly last time, and the ministry restricted them way too much. We need to be free to move around once everything starts. Not to mention we can't afford to not be in control this time. Good intentions aren't enough."  
"Well, you know what the mafia does."  
"Create a front?"  
"Right. A legitimate business with cause to travel a lot."  
"Hiding in plain sight. Something so unthreatening we'll be ignored."  
"How about." He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face a storefront. "That." He pointed up at the golden letters spelling out Gucci.  
"Fashion. Because no one would believe the brainless barbies strutting up and down runways could be a threat. Genius."  
"Thank you. Just one problem. How do we convince people we're a design house?"  
"We become one. This is going to take some doing. We'll need alternate identities of course. Probably should start multiple ones, it never hurts to have a fallback, and the more history can be found the less suspicious we'll be." She was scribbling furiously now, covering pages with lists and mind maps, tearing out pages occasionally and handing them to him.  
He looked down at one of the lists in his hands. "I guess we'll need some potions on standby then. I'll start working on ingredients now if you get me a list. One massive order by a ten year old looks worse than a few smaller ones, and I can spread it out."  
"I'll organize the ingredient lists so they look a bit more innocuous. Just don't wander into Knockturn alley unless you have to. Boomslang skin might be hard to get anywhere else though. More reputable stores will at least register the sale and we'd rather not have that happen. Once we have the potions we can split the ingredients over identities, that should help."  
"Right. How are we going to meet up over the summer?"  
"I'm working on getting my parents to let me stay with my grandfather some. I usually go there quite a lot anyway. He won't let me go far on my own, but he doesn't live that far from you so we should be able to meet, and I can always sneak out at night, if that won't get you into too much trouble."  
"Perfect. But where do we set up a cauldron? Even my room can't hide that. My parents would notice the stench if nothing else."  
"Good question. I think...well we could shell out for a trunk with a big enough compartment. Or we could just enchant it ourselves, it's cheaper, not to mention we don't have to explain to anyone what we want it for, but we'd have to do it in Diagon Alley to avoid the trace, and we couldn't do it until we get our letters. Wandering around the stores is all good and well, but Ollivander remembers everyone, we can't risk him telling anyone we were there before the letters went out. They come in mid to late July so we should still have time for polyjuice if we wait. We'll want some standard aging potion as well I expect. We'll probably want to keep the ingredients for a few more regular glamour potions as well, but they're better fresh, and they don't take very long to brew anyway."  
"Ok. One more question."  
"What?"  
"How are we going to fund a company?"  
"We have magic, we won't need money for a while. We can transfigure fabrics, probably find some in the room of requirement. Once we have a collection or two we can worry about establishing a brand next summer. We won't be able to do much footwork during the year anyway. I expect the legalities will be the bigger problem, considering it will be owned by two people who don't actually exist...We can do this can't we?"  
"We can do anything Hermione. We just went back fifteen years in time. We can handle making clothes."  
"I didn't mean the clothes Dean." He threw an arm around her shoulders as she looked up at him, desperation seeping through her words.  
"I know. We can defeat the dark lord as well, with Harry's help obviously, and whatever comes after." He pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "We'll be fine, Harry will be fine, the Weasleys will be fine. Everything is going to be fine."  
"You can't possibly know that."  
"I can. You are going to make it alright. Even _time_ won't say no to you when you make up your mind. You're going to fix everything, and I'm going to help you. Now, we should really get back to your teachers before you get in trouble."  
"Right. I will send you those ingredient lists when I get home. Here, my mother gave me some money for today. It's taxi money. I'll tell her I used it." She handed him a fifty pound note. "It should cover a lot of the ingredients. I'll start squirreling away for that pensieve and whatever else we need."  
"I should be able to raise some as well. My dad'll be thrilled if I start mowing lawns and stuff."  
"I'll see you next time I get here. This is the number to my granddad's. I'll call you when I get there anyway."


	3. Chapter 3

I should point out at this point, that this is going somewhere, and I have a vague idea where, but it is going to take me a while to get it all to make sense. I have thirty-some thousand words written, they just don't quite add up to a story unless you live in my head, in which case it all makes perfect sense.

* * *

Hermione wandered up the path to Dean's house, past his father who was kneeling in the bushes pulling up weeds. "Morning Mr. Thomas."

"Morning Hermione." He looked up. "I thought you lived in Oxford?"

"I do, I'm staying with my grandfather. He lives over by the Lister Schools."

"Oh, well great, you're welcome over anytime. Clearly you've already picked up on that. No deflowering my son though!" He turned back to his gardening and Hermione ducked into the hall and snuck up the stairs, finding Dean in his bedroom, cross-legged with a sketchbook in his lap. She snuck up behind him, leaning in just beside his ear, careful not to let out a breath. "So, what do we have so far?" Dean gave a disappointingly calm response, setting down his pencil and picking up an eraser to fix the line now going from a little girl's ear to her shoulder.

He looked up once he was done to find Hermione looking at the picture of a playground that was slowly taking form. "Well I have the boomslang skin and assorted horns you asked for, I figured go for the harder stuff first. No one is going to ask questions if we double up on lacewing flies and knotgrass when we get our supplies."

"Great."

"I got a standard advanced potions set too, I was going to go for a cauldron as well, but I couldn't think of a way to explain that to my parents and they're not exactly easy to hide are they?"

"No, that's perfect. Once we get a trunk we can start brewing. My parents will be thrilled enough that I'm going to have a friend with me at school they'll probably let me spend the rest of the summer in London, as long as I keep up my schoolwork of course."

"I feel like this is going too well."

"In know the feeling. We came back before it all started though, it was easy, we were kids. We just didn't know what was coming the first time around."

"So how much of what happened before is going to happen this time?"

"No way of knowing. Quirrell should already have Voldemort sticking out of his head, that's already been set in motion, and we shouldn't have affected the timeline enough that the philosopher's stone won't end up at Hogwarts. The question is how to change enough to make things better without risking too much. How do we make sure the stone doesn't get stolen without risking Harry's life?"

"You go with him for one. I'll come with the three of you down there, I'll be the one to take  
Ron back, you go with Harry, under the invisibility cloak. We can do this Hermione. I have complete faith in you."

"Thank you."

"I'm taking another trip to Diagon tomorrow, and I've made a bit of cash, I found a pensieve on sale in Knockturn, but I'm pretty far off the price tag. It's over a hundred galleons."

"Don't worry about it. I'm spoiled remember. Just tell me where it is and I can make sure to run across it with my parents. I feel sort of bad lying to them, but I'm not going to let them die again."

"We're doing the right thing here. I'll start collecting some books. I found a few on tailoring and permanent transfiguration that can pass for casual reading. I'll start picking up some on business as well, muggle and magical, and for your reading pleasure right now, I have ten years of backissues of Vogue and Italian Vogue, courtesy of my mum."

"You are a saint Dean."

"I know."

* * *

"Did you get your letter?" Hermione was clearly jumping up and down again; he could hear it in her voice. It worried him somehow that he could hear her facial expression.

"Flitwick was just here. Time to get our swot on. When are you going to Diagon?" He assumed the answer would be tomorrow, he couldn't imagine Hermione not getting as much study time in as possible.

"Tomorrow, I insisted I wanted as much time as possible to study my new books."

"And you do, just not the standard ones." He dreaded the moment he would have to drag her out of Flourish and Blott's.

"We could probably do that as well, I remember most of the assignments from Hogwarts, if we stockpile now we'll have more time if something goes wrong. Not to mention we have our extracurricular activities which will probably consume a huge amount of time we don't have."

"Probably a good idea." He grinned. He wasn't sure extracurricular really covered their plans.

"Are you just agreeing with me to avoid an argument?" He wasn't really. He tended to agree with her because she was usually proven right.

He decided she did not need to hear that. "Yes, why is it not working?"

She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "Should we brew at my place or yours?"

"I would go with mine, my parents are a bit less alert when it comes to noises and me disappearing for a couple of hours than your granddad seems to be."

"Mmm, at least he likes you, sneaking out all summer could have been problematic."

"Not to mention how difficult it would have been if I was dead."

"Oh come on, he's a softie really, he's just a bit rough around the edges."

"He aimed a shotgun at me."

"He does that. It's not a shotgun by the way, it's a rifle."

"Yeah. Softies don't own guns."

"He's Norwegian, it's for sport, he was a biathlete. Besides, he warmed up to you pretty quickly."

"I didn't know you had Norwegian family."

"Mm, my cousins still live there, we usually go for Christmas. Anywho, we're driving up tonight, you should come over before breakfast tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you then."

"Dean's got a girlfriend!"

"Oh for the love of…Mum! Can you please get everyone to keep out of my business?"

"Sorry Dean, no can do. Now, what's this I hear about a girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"They have a date tomorrow. He's meeting her parents."

"Oh really, why haven't we met her?"

"Dad has, she's been here. I assumed you had met her, in fact I'm pretty sure you did."

"Hermione's your girlfriend? That's great, she's a cute one, and ever so polite. Why didn't you tell me she's your girlfriend?"

"Because she's not! She who I'm meeting tomorrow. She's a witch, she got her letter too so we're going shopping for school stuff."

"Well I think it's great that you'll have your girlfriend with you."

"I hate you all!" He knew exactly how much of a petulant teenager he was being, and he did not care. He could have sworn he used to act like a proper adult.

* * *

"Dr Granger." He shook Harold Granger's hand as firmly as his eleven year old physique would allow. "Dr Granger." He kissed the knuckles of Claire Granger's right hand before turning to their daughter. "Hermione." They hugged quickly. Both Dr Grangers raised their eyebrows at him.

"I thought dad was joking. You can call me Claire love. Hermione has told us so much about you."

"Harold my boy, really, no need for formality."

"It would be disrespectful to refer to an adult by first names uninvited."

"Well consider yourself invited then lad, we couldn't be happier Hermione isn't going to be on her own up there."

"I'll be glad to have a friend with me as well sir."

"Good good, well let's get going shall we, you said you'd exchanged your money already?"

"Yes sir."

"Oh now none of this sir nonsense, it's Harold or nothing."

"Daddy, wands first."

"Right you are, I've been looking forward to this." They made their way toward Ollivander's, passing the entrance to Knockturn alley with Hermione gazing longingly at a stone basin, proudly claiming to be a must for any organized wizard.

"Oh yes, two muggleborns, I rarely see two together, but then facing the unknown together...How may I help you today?"

"We both need wands."

"Yes, yes I'd imagine you do. Which is your wand hand?"

"I'm right handed."

"I'm ambidextrous."

"Oh, how fascinating. I do enjoy a challenge. Come, come." His measuring tape flew around taking measurements every which way.

"I'm sorry sir, but why do you need all these measurements?"

"No no, don't be sorry girl, always wonder why people need what they need. No information is too unimportant to be useful. I find that certain measurements indicate which wand would be likely to suit you. It's not an exact science of course, the wand chooses the wizard, or witch, after all. You'll find that a long nose is common with those with long wands for example. It shortens the process of trying wands. I have over sixty thousand wands in this shop, it would be awfully time consuming to try them all. There are of course other indicators."

"Like what?"

"Oh almost everything. I know my wands well little miss, and everything you say and do will help me find yours." He pulled out a long thin box from a row far back. When he opened it she recognized her own vine wand. She smiled at the familiarity as she picked it up but it turned to a frown as she realized the wand did not warm to her touch as it once had. It felt almost sad. "Very interesting. That is a curious response indeed."

"What is?"

"The wand is in mourning Miss...?"

"Granger."

"Miss Granger. It is a fairly common occurrence among older witches and wizards. The wand chooses the wizard Miss Granger, but if the chosen wizard changes, then the wand may elect to...retire."

"Are they sentient? What happens when a wand retires?" She felt a pang in her chest for her wand. It felt as though it was as reluctant to leave her as she was it.

"Oh not to worry Miss Granger, the wand will find a new owner eventually. They are quasi sentient. It will miss you for a time but it will, like all things, heal." He handed her another box and she ignored the feeling that she was betraying her wand as she picked it up. This time she felt almost nothing and gave a wave that resulted in violent sparks.

"No. No I suppose it wouldn't be. But perhaps..." The next box he collected was longer and the wand he extracted was much longer than her own 10 ¼ inch vine wand.

"Yes, I think you may have outgrown your nose Miss Granger." She instinctively reached up to touch her nose. She had always thought her face oddly proportioned, with large eyes and a large mouth, even after her teeth were adjusted.

"Your nose is adorable, he didn't mean your appearance." Dean interrupted her thoughts,  
pulling her hand away from her face.

"No, your nose is a perfectly respectable size of course. Now, if you would." He held the long wand out to her. The rush was indescribable as she made contact with the wand and it seemed almost to sing to her, calling out to her. She found herself unable to release the wand.

"Yes. Ash 15 inches, very springy. It contains the tail hairs of a thestral. This is a very old wand Miss Granger, far older than I am. It is a fantastically fascinating wand. I rarely make ash wands more than thirteen inches in length as the flexibility of the wood increases the difficulty of handling. This one necessitates graceful movement, not jabbing and twitching. I have only ever made two wands with thestral tail hairs, and always with a single hair. A wand such as this one Miss Granger waits a very long time to find its master, when it finds her, we can expect spectacular results." His piercing gaze unnerved her as she stared down at the wand. He spun suddenly and gave a delighted smile to Dean who looked appropriately nervous.

"And you young sir. Ambidextrous was it? Name?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Hm. Has it always been?" He gave Hermione a cautious look. That was certainly new. The first time he'd bought his wand Ollivander had clucked his tongue and determined by some strange means that right was his dominant hand.

"No sir. I was born a Pinkett, my mother's name."

"Well, no matter, I thought for a second...oh well. Ambidextrous, equal proficiency, but never identical." This was familiar. This was where he would stare for a minute and poke Dean with his wand and decide on the right hand. "I wonder. I wouldn't have thought, but then..." He looked over at Hermione who seemed to be getting acquainted with her wand. "It could be." He gave Dean another appraising look before shuffling down the aisles again, eventually reappearing with two long boxes. Dean found himself thinking he was being needlessly pessimistic. He could at least try the first wand before deciding the other one would be better.

"Take this mister Thomas." He handed him a wand. Dean felt very little at all. "Other hand." Dean gave him a very confused look but obeyed and was rewarded with a feeling of contentment as the fingers on his left hand closed around the embellished handle of the wand.

"Hm. Hold this please." He extracted a second wand from the other case. There was an immediate surge of power running up the length of his arm.

"Very fascinating indeed. I look forward to following your accomplishments, both of you. These are some of my own proudest creations. I didn't think they would find their master so soon. Less than a year old. Hornbeam, only slightly springy, 17 inches with a dragon heartstring. Walnut, 17 inches, unyielding, unicorn hair. These were a true labour of love mister Thomas, do take care of them."

"Yes sir."

"Will you be paying together?"

"No sir, I'll pay my own."

"Very well. Your wands come to 14 galleons, Miss Granger yours will be eleven." They both quickly paid for their wands and made their way to the door.

"Mister Thomas! Remember that an extra trick up one's sleeve is only an asset if one's opponent is unaware of its presence." The door shut behind them, leaving two very confused adolescents and two highly amused adults.

"Well he certainly had a sales pitch. I wonder if he's always that dramatic."

"I'd wager he's a bit less over the top with the ones with magical parents. It's a bit of fun for him though isn't it? He gets to be pretty much the first contact point of all the kids coming in."

"Oh good lord there are actually flying broomsticks. Sweetheart, don't you want one of those? Can't be a proper witch without a broom can you?"

"Daddy, I'm not allowed a broom, the letter said, besides, you know how I feel about heights."  
Harold Granger looked simply hilarious while pouting and soon everyone had forgotten the uneasiness that had settled over them in Ollivander's presence.

"Why don't you look at the brooms while we go get the trunks, I figure we'd best get them before the books or it'll be hell trying to carry everything around." She looked at Dean and her father who were staring transfixed at the racing broom in the window. She scoffed inwardly, knowing that Dean had seen fifteen years worth of much more impressive brooms than the nimbus 2000 he was currently drooling over.

"Boys." She tutted before moving toward Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment with her mother. They selected two standard trunks and made their way back to Broomstix where their companions were still staring at miscellaneous objects in the store.

"Harold, come. We should get Hermione's birthday gift while we're here. Hermione, why don't the two of you head over to the bookshop? We'll be back to ring you up in about half an hour." Hermione perked up immediately and grabbed Dean's hand, almost dragging him across the street, not that he seemed to object.

"So, standard set first, I'll get those." Dean said, gently detaching his hand and sending  
Hermione into the depths of the store to hunt for more interesting reading, both trunks following obediently behind her. He quickly collected the books from his list, two copies of each and brought them to the register.

"Where did your little friend go?"

"Hunting. She'd buy a copy of everything in the store if she could I'm sure. She loves books."

"One after my own heart then. What about you young man?"

"I enjoy reading, but I've always been more of a fiction kind of guy. She's into the pursuit of knowledge and you have a tonne of it that she's never had access to before."

"Muggleborn?"

"Both of us yeah."

"Well, I certainly can't discourage someone who seeks knowledge, wait here for a moment." The elderly witch scurried off into the depths of the shop.

"This is a very special book. You won't find it on any shelf in any shop in Britain. Share  
this with your young friend. It is yours to keep for as long as you need it, it will return here when it has filled its purpose."

"Are a lot of inanimate objects in this world partially sentient?"

"Been talking to Ollivander have we? No, nothing quite as dramatic as that I'm afraid, it is a spell, a very complex one but just a spell none the less."

"Thank you very much for your kindness, I'm sure Hermione will be thrilled. I should probably go check on her, her parents will be back soon." He ambled back toward the dustier section of the shop. Nothing could attract Hermione like old books. He found her sitting with books all around her, sorted into piles, putting one after the other into her trunk, to easily drag them to the till.

"Hermione, your parents will be back soon. Have you done you-know-what?"

"Mm, look in your trunk. I'll work on them more when we get to school. Moody's trunk seemed ever so useful, multiple compartments and all, but this should to for now. You'll have to get your stuff in without my parents noticing of course but that shouldn't be too hard." She flipped another few pages and let out a frustrated sigh. "I just can't decide."

"Write a list and we'll tick them all off when we can."

"I suppose."

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you; how do you feel about gambling?"

"It's unnecessarily risky." She continued to flip through books, scanning a few pages before snapping them shut and putting them into piles. He picked up a few and started putting them back on the shelves around her.

"How about cheating at gambling?"  
She paused to frown at him. "Well it's better than gambling at least, why?"

"I know the football scores for this summer, unless our being here has changed that, but so far it matches up."  
She raised an eyebrow. "And you want to bet money on it to increase our funds?"

"Yup." She continued scanning the page before sighing.

"Well I suppose strictly speaking it isn't cheating. Morally it's a bit iffy, but there are no rules against time travel. Go for it I guess. To be honest I considered doing the same thing with the stock market, but I obviously don't know the day to day, and long term there is no guarantee things stay the same…How do you remember the football scores from over fifteen years ago?"

He shrugged. "We used to play at gambling at my school, I was bookie, I had to keep track, I still have the old journals in my room. Had in the future…" He tried not to think about time, he wasn't sure what it would do to his mind, and he would rather be confused than insane.

"We had very different childhoods."

He grinned. "That we did. Also I have a very good memory, at least when it comes to numbers. Come on, let's get this lot to the till and wait for your parents."

"No need sweetheart, we're here. Don't worry, we weren't actually expecting our daughter to be done in half an hour. Come on honey, we got your present."

"Mum, my birthday isn't for two months."

"I know, but I'm excited, I'll get you something boring for your real birthday I promise, now open it!" The beautifully wrapped box turned out to contain the very same pensieve Hermione had been planning to ask for. "See, I know my daughter well, and I can see when she wants something. You were practically drooling when we passed it honey. Besides, it's for us too. You only actually use magic while sticking your memories in it, according to the sales...person at least, so you can show us some of what you do at school when you come home."

"Mum this is fantastic!"

"Not to mention it said it was a must for the organized wizard, and you're nothing if not organized honey. Now come on, we need to pay for your books and go get these robes. They're a bit medieval for my tastes but it is the uniform. Mind you you'd still fit in quite well at Oxford, ridiculous academic dress." Hermione's mother clearly hadn't forgiven the college for the dress code.

"My wife is still very upset about the red gown she had to wear at graduation. I of course had to wear a robe to every single dinner I went to so I got used to it. They're really not bad as long as it's not too warm out, but you're from the sounds of it you're headed for Scotland so that shouldn't be a problem." Madam Malkin, Dean was quite pleased to note, did not find them fascinating in the least, other than tutting at Dean for coming in mid-growth spurt, as if he should have been aware of that fact. She insisted that he get a pair of robes with some growing room and shrunk them to size, saying it would wear off as he grew. She tutted at him a few more times before turning to Hermione and insisting that she should eat more. Claire engaged her in a conversation about wizarding fashions, and established that while the older generations frowned upon it, trousers on girls were perfectly acceptable in younger company. Hogwarts was found to have rather a strict dress code however. Robes were to be worn at all times while in the castle and outside of the common room, uniform skirts were to be knee length and always accompanied by white or grey knee high socks or tights.

"Well apart from the robes my school had the same rules, although Hermione's school says skirts must reach at least to the fingertips."

"Mum, come on, we still have to buy potion supplies."

"Oh yes, the store with all the creepy crawlies, I was hoping to avoid that one."

"Dean?"

"I'll get the ingredients and you get the cauldrons?"

"Right, come on mum, nothing crawly in the cauldron store, no promises on creepy though." She dragged her mother out of the store and over to the tiny shop that seemed to be entirely filled with cauldrons of every size and material possible. They managed to make their way through the shop with some difficulty.

"Oh look at this one though Hun, copper, seems much better than the pewter ones."

"Surely that must depend on what you're brewing? Maybe they only teach potions that aren't corrosive to pewter? Besides which, the list says pewter." Her mother had never gotten used to the unexplained things in the wizarding world.

"Maybe, but surely being able to heat it more than a couple of hundred degrees would be a good thing. I could melt pewter in the fireplace at home, it's mostly tin."

"True. You'd think there would be glass cauldrons, it is far less reactive than metals."

"Mm, it did do wonders for chemistry. I suppose they might not have seen the point. The Chinese didn't really bother with it for a very long time. I'm sure we could commission one. That company in Sweden who did the chandelier maybe, the Swedes have always been very good with glass. Your father and I were going to go see about new windows anyway."

"We should probably find some books about cauldrons first, there might be issues with thickness and such." Percy's face flashed into her mind for a second, making her smile and shake her head.

"Yes. Well I'll work on that while you're gone, for now let's get you those pewter size twos."


	4. Chapter 4

Ok...Yeah I don't really have much to say except this is obviously not mine.

* * *

"Hi Dean."  
"Hermione!" Dean sat up suddenly and as a consequence fell from his precarious position at the edge of his bed, landing in a tangled heap. "What time is it?" He muttered while wrestling with his sheet.  
She gave him a disgustingly perky smile and he couldn't decide if she was deliberately trying to make his head pound or if that was just his imagination. "Oh it's about seven. I'm going to add potassium nitrate to the polyjuice." She didn't really seem to be paying attention to him as she fiddled with his trunk lock so he concluded the early morning visit was not in fact an attempt kill him via sleep deprivation.  
His mind processed the second half of her answer. "Potassium nitrate? As in the stuff I use for fireworks? I don't remember that being in the recipe."  
"Well yes and no. Potassium nitrate is a form of saltpeter, muggles used it as a food preservative for a long time. Saltpeter is a collective name for several kinds of salt. The kind you buy in apothecaries appears to be a bit of a mix. I've found that the muggle versions are easier to use. Also it makes it taste very slightly less bad, as there are no little impurities in it. For some reason sodium nitrate isn't nearly as good."  
"Right. Do my parents know you're here?" While Hermione didn't seem to think twice about wandering into his room at random intervals, sometimes without announcing her presence at all, his siblings were having a field day with the strange girl with the big teeth and the bushy hair that had seemingly come out of nowhere.  
"Oh yes, they said to send you down for breakfast. I told them I wanted to study."  
"Right then, have fun with your salt adding."  
"Mm." She was already climbing into the makeshift lab, careful not to inhale the fumes rising from the dark green potion while putting on what appeared to be a dentists mask.  
"Ok then." Having finally won his battle with the sheet he grabbed a shirt from the floor and made his way down to the kitchen.  
"Really mum? You couldn't have warned me? I was sleeping."  
"Yes well you have to be at the grounds in twenty minutes. Why is she coming here to study when you're not going to be here again?"  
"Because she enjoys seeing me suffer."  
"Fair enough, I like that too. Now get changed and hop along."  
"Will you tell her she needs to have lunch?"  
"Of course I will. So sweet, taking care of your girlfriend." Dean groaned and left the room.

Dean sat down at the dining room table, crossing his arms in front of him defensively. His mother's tone of voice did not sound promising. "Dean, I think we need to talk about Hermione."  
"What about her?" His arms tensed. He had been wondering when this discussion was going to happen. It was inevitable really. Well. It could be avoided by him telling Hermione not to show up unannounced, but he would rather face the teasing and uncomfortable father son chats, and even what he had a feeling was going to be The Talk from his mother, than the hurt look he would doubtless receive from Hermione. For all that she was brilliant and kind hearted, she was also socially awkward and very insecure when it came to friends.  
His mother tilted her head slightly to the right and her face prepared him for the patronising tone she was about to adopt. She had never been one for serious talks and tended to sound very much like the man with the cheesy grin from the public service announcement videos at school. "You know she's always welcome here, and we love that you're going to have someone with you to that new school."  
"But...?"  
"But I noticed her sneaking in at two in the morning. I realize that she has an unusual attachment to non-fiction, but no one rides a bike for fifteen minutes at two in the morning to look up dates in an encyclopaedia. Now I'm not going to judge, but if there is something going on here I need to know you're being safe."  
"Mum! We are not having sex! Look, trust me, if we were headed that way, and we're not, there will be no sex for years. Lots and lots of years." The thought had crossed his mind (it had stopped and lived there for a few months prior to going back), but he had shot it down almost instantly. The idea had filled him with a deep discomfort. He knew on some level that she was in the same situation he was and so it wouldn't really be a breach of any moral code, but it still felt like paedophilia. Dean could say with some confidence that he would not be dating any time soon.  
"You say that now, but puberty..."  
"No, just no. Look, I was there when you had the talk with Danny remember? It was mortifying enough the first time."  
"I want you to bring a box of condoms anyway, and if you use them and run out, I want you to get more. If you don't feel comfortable asking me I want you to ask Danny."  
"Fine."  
"Good. And for the record I think Hermione is a perfectly lovely girl and if she was you girlfriend I would be very happy for you."  
"Thanks mum."

The rest of the summer passed in much the same fashion. Dean had given up on convincing his family Hermione wasn't his girlfriend after she had once again wandered into his room at three am claiming she urgently needed to talk to him about school. His parents had found it hilarious, but Hermione clearly hadn't realized it wasn't a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Dean wasn't entirely sure she knew it was night-time, the cauldron needed stirring so she stirred it. She also didn't seem to notice that his siblings and parents wolf whistled every time they passed.  
Her parents seemed more than happy to accept that he was a friend, though her grandfather still occasionally sent pointed glances at the locked cabinet he knew held the rifle.

Hermione carefully slid A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration back into its place in her trunk and slammed the lid shut just as her mother called from the kitchen. "Darling! Ten minutes, we're leaving. Wake your grandfather on the way, he'll want to say goodbye."  
"Is Dean here yet?" She yelled back, knocking on her grandfather's bedroom door and waiting for his reply before moving into the kitchen.  
"Has been for twenty minutes, he's having breakfast. I made waffles for you to bring along, train food is awful, I'm sure wizard train food is as well." She handed her daughter a plate and continued bustling about, clearing off the counter and putting lids on the containers that apparently held their lunches.  
"Morning Hermione."  
"Morning Dean." Dean grinned up at her before looking down at his suddenly full plate. Claire Granger had been nothing but supportive of her daughter's new opportunity to learn, but he got the distinct impression that she was not entirely prepared to let her eleven year old go. He had never seen her fidget before.  
She spun around suddenly, brandishing a spatula and a dishcloth at them. "Are you both packed properly?"  
"Yes mum. I just checked everything."  
"Yes Dr Granger."  
"It's still Claire, Sweetie."  
"Sorry."  
"Now, eat up, we need to go." He noted that her eyes were covered in a layer of mist and turned to the task of emptying his plate as fast as possible without earning disapproving stares from both Granger women. Hermione's father came back in after loading the trunks into the car and gave him a mildly sympathetic look, he then proceeded to lead his wife out of the room while nodding head toward the waste disposal. Dean quickly discarded what remained of his fourth portion and followed.

The goodbyes were long and tearful and vastly different from the goodbye he had said to his own family earlier that morning. They had arrived at the platform almost a full half hour before the train left, but by the time they actually found themselves in the corridor it was already pumping out steam, about to pull out from the platform.  
"Find a compartment?"  
"I guess." They dragged their (admittedly feather light) trunks down the narrow carriage. Dean knocked into another boy who went flying to the ground, releasing the small reddish thing he'd been carrying. Dean instinctively reached out and snatched it from the air. "Whoopsi daisy, sorry about that mate. Is this a toad? Might want to put that in your trunk, don't want it running off down the train or anything."  
"Um, yeah."  
"Hey, what's the rush? Come on now, this compartment is empty, grab a seat with us. I'm Dean Thomas, this is Hermione Granger."  
"Neville Longbottom."  
"Any relation to Alice Longbottom?"  
"She's my mother, why?"  
"I was reading about her last night. She revolutionized the safety procedures in Auror Academy while she was still a student there. She must be a brilliant witch."  
Neville gave a sad, but very proud smile. "Yeah." He didn't elaborate.  
"We're both muggleborn, I suppose all of this is less exciting when you've been expecting it all your life."  
He shrugged, clutching his toad closer. "I don't know. I never showed much magic as a kid, my whole family was really relieved when the letter came, they thought I might be a squib."  
"Oh, well that shows them doesn't it, I'm sure you'll be an excellent wizard. What house are you hoping for?"  
"Well my parents were in Gryffindor, but everyone says I'll be in Hufflepuff. I'm not brave enough for Gryffindor, and I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw."  
"I'm sure you could be a Gryffindor if you wanted, but there's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff."  
"See that's what I like to hear." A slightly older boy stood in the doorway to their compartment. "People seem to think Hufflepuff is for the leftovers, but it's not. Hufflepuffs are loyal, and a lot of them are brave and clever and all of those other things as well. It's all about where your priorities are. Cedric Diggory, pleasure to meet you all." He reached out a hand and shook each of theirs on turn.  
"Hermione Granger, this is Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom."  
"Absolutely delighted to make your acquaintance, I should be off though, I hope to see you in Hufflepuff."  
"See, he doesn't seem like leftovers to me." Dean was still staring at the space the older boy had occupied. That was not how he remembered Cedric Diggory. He wasn't entirely sure he could remember the Hufflepuff speaking…ever, certainly not happily chatting away to strangers.  
"That he does not. He actually made me want to be a Hufflepuff. How did he do that?"  
"Well clearly some Hufflepuffs are sneaky as well. He implied that the other houses don't care about people as much. Not to mention he was plain nice which always helps."  
"True, true." He shrugged and turned back to the other two.  
"Either way, I don't think it really matters where we want to go. Gran says the sorting hat knows where to put people." Neville still sounded quite resigned.  
"Maybe so, but we can still have fun planning. I was hoping for Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, I do love learning and Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor of course. I really think Hufflepuff might be the way to go through. I'd prefer loyal friends to smart ones any day."  
"I kind of have to agree. Besides, I already have the smartest friend." Hermione rolled her eyes at him and continued speaking to Neville.  
"Well, if we do end up in Hufflepuff, and you follow in your parent's' footsteps, we can still meet up in the library and lunch and stuff."  
"I'd like that."  
"Oh shoot, we should change into school things Dean. I'll go to the bathroom and change." Neville left the compartment as well and made his way in the opposite direction, presumably to look for someone he knew. He had yet to return when Hermione got back.  
"I just realized something." She declared as she shut the door behind her and sat down.  
"Are you going to tell me what it was?" Dean chuckled slightly from behind the potions text he'd taken out of his trunk.  
"Well I really would enjoy being in Hufflepuff, I think we could learn a lot, but that would make looking out for Harry very difficult." She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and he resisted the urge to repeat her mother's speech about the little boy who came into the surgery having hit his chin and bitten his bottom lip off.  
"Not necessarily. I mean it would be easier if I shared a room with him sure, but we can make friends with him, and we can put a tracking charm on him. It's a little bit stalkerish, but it'll take quite a while before he realizes we're not actually just there by coincidence."  
"Maybe." She chewed on her lip for a few more seconds. "Wait!" She whipped a stack of parchment out of her bag and started scribbling furiously.  
"I'm waiting!" He stage whispered, copying her excited tone. "What am I waiting for?"  
"The marauders map. Professor Lupin explained it to me, not in detail of course but I studied it pretty closely, I should be able to replicate it. It would have been easier to use the original of course but Fred and George already have it at this point."  
"Sorry, still lost." She was making lists. He appreciated her organizational skills, and the list making was adorable most of the time, but he could help but feel that if she wrote less and explained more their conversations would run considerably more smoothly.  
"It's a map of the castle, well of the entire grounds, it shows where everyone is. It's a very clever piece of magic."  
"Perfect. What do we need?" He assumed that was one of the two lists she was currently scribbling together. While her handwriting was very neat, it was cursive and far too cramped to be read upside-down.  
"Well we need a frankly massive piece of parchment of good enough quality that it can be folded, and it will probably take an entire bottle of ink. Although I'm sure we could colour code it a bit, make it easier to use. We'll need a couple of potions as well, I'll have to look up some of the finer points. You said you found an owl order retailer?"  
"Yeah, German, they seemed supremely unbothered about sending me boomslang skin so we should probably check what they send us, but so far everything has checked out."  
"Well, money is money to a lot of people, as long as you're willing to pay there is always someone willing to provide. Luckily we shouldn't need anything illegal, or even suspicious for this."  
"Even better. It does sort of feel like we're breaking a lot of laws lately."  
"Shouldn't Neville be back by now? We'll be arriving soon."  
"Yeah. I'll check the corridor." Dean wandered off in the direction Neville had gone. He came back a few minutes later with Neville in tow, looking slightly rumpled.  
"We are so not going to Slytherin." He threw himself, surprisingly gracefully, into his seat, as Neville sat down awkwardly. "Neville had a bit of a run in with a little blonde albino kid with gorilla bodyguards. Right bastard."  
"Language."  
"Sorry."  
"Are you ok Neville?"  
"Fine, Dean came before anything happened."  
"Well, small favours I suppose. We're pulling in to the station, you should probably straighten up." She adjusted his tie and brushed his robes down.


End file.
